Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/85

 The eyes were given to the lad, He rode back to the forest sad.
 * Hand me, my boy, the living water,
 * I soon will heal this ill-starred daughter,
 * Without a scar I’ll heal her.”

He placed the eyes where they should be; Life came back, and the girl could see,
 * And the maiden rose, and looked around—
 * She was alone—not even a sound
 * Disturbed the forest’s silence.

Three weeks had passed, the king rode home, Merrily back upon his roan.
 * How are you, beloved wife,” he said,
 * And have you been spinning linen thread,
 * And thinking of me, my love?”

Your parting words I kept with care Look at this golden spin-wheel fair,
 * The only spin-wheel of gold, I trow,
 * With distaff and whirl I bought it now,
 * For love of you I bought it.”

I pray thee sit and spin, my dove, A golden thread spin me, my love.”
 * With joy she sat herself down to spin,
 * Turned the wheel—then blanched, her face grew thin,
 * As she heard that awful song.

Vrrr—you have spun an awful thread— Yes, blood is on your hands and head—
 * You killed your sister, and took her place.
 * You tore her limbs and eyes from their place.
 * Vrrr—you have spun an awful thread.”

What spinning wheel is this, I pray? Strange is the song it sings, I say?
 * But spin on, my wife, I fain would hear
 * Some more of this song, so strange and drear,
 * Spin—my wile, spin on, I pray,”